


Much Better

by s1ranksinner



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Dissociation, Implied Polyamorous Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1ranksinner/pseuds/s1ranksinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all memories are good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Better

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to trigger anyone, so this has anxiety and dissociation and talk of depression, I think. The timeline for this is sort of up in the air. They're out of high school, but I don't think I mentioned a specific age. It could be taken as a story that occurred before The Chill. Once again I'm being selfish writing characters experiencing really unpleasant things I've experienced and making them deal with it better than I did.

Akaashi sat in the car, his bangs already sticking to his forehead. It was muggy and uncomfortable, but he was happy for the road trip. Bokuto was humming, singing along to the beat - " _Beatboxing_ , Akaashi!" - and punctuating the noises and solos with the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel. Akaashi was idly scrolling through some bad book he'd downloaded for the drive. He was mildly cramped with his shoulder pressed against the ledge of the window, but he was too lazy to move.

"Oh, shoot," Bokuto muttered, and Akaashi blinked, looking around, waiting for his vision to adjust. He'd been staring at a small screen for too long. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, quashing his worry. Bokuto turned to beam at him before quickly fixing his eyes back on the road.

"Just out of gas, is all."

Akaashi realized belatedly that he hadn't been paying attention to any of the goings-on in the car, absorbed in a mediocre romance of some sort. He fished through his bag between his feet, pulling out his glasses case.

"I'll help look for an exit," he announced quietly, fitting the glasses over his ears. He was glad he didn't have to wear them all the time, because they never failed to put unwanted pressure on the bridge of his nose, although this pair was quite a bit better about that than the free pair he got his first time to the optometrist. 

Luck was on their side. That and the fact that they were driving through a major city. There was more than one exit to choose from, and Akaashi requested one with a place to get lots of food for a decent price. Bokuto sometimes would forget they were on a budget now.

Bokuto eased into the other lane, signaling his movement while he harmonized with the song on the radio. Akaashi never failed to be surprised by the care and ease with which Bokuto drove. He had been _told_ that it was a much more pleasant experience than when Akaashi was behind the wheel. It wasn't that he took risks, he just didn't care. Driving was driving, just don't hit anyone or anything, and you're good.

Though he would be the first to admit he could be a little distracted when he had food within his reach.

They waited by the yield sign as a line of annoyingly spaced out cars drove by, unhurried, unaware of their predicament. Akaashi felt a pang of guilt at the realization that it wasn't anyone else's responsibility to know they were in somewhat of a rush. Feeling petty, though, he still wished small inconveniences on them.

Akaashi turned his phone off, and decided to look around. This was not the worst place they'd stopped, but it was clearly a small town. It looked safe, just run down.

Time seemed to stand still when he saw a billboard. Was it a billboard? More like a large sign.

"PLUMS"

Akaashi felt out of place in a strange way. He was sure he was awake and breathing, but he felt far away. Not there.

Was that-?

He felt his heart drop, and then begin to flutter, turning into a nervous pounding against his ribcage.

"-'Kaashi."

Akaashi turned to look at Bokuto, feeling like his whole body was pulling out of some sticky mire or quicksand.

In some corner of his mind, he felt he probably had looked laughable and overdramatic. It didn't matter. He couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed. He was still faintly fuzzy and shocked.

Bokuto looked him in the eyes, studying him. His hand - thankfully not still on Akaashi's arm - was resting on the back of Akaashi's seat.

He leaned back, and Akaashi didn't move. Things were moving slowly. He turned back, looking at the chain link fence around the small wooden building.

He recognized it.

It took thirty minutes before he could feel his fingers.

It wasn't like when your hand fell asleep. It was like- like being asleep and trying to move. Where you are sluggish and nothing works right.

He texted Kenma, still not able to work his mouth. He was fairly certain his eyes were wide, but looking in the side mirror, he appeared impassive and indifferent, which for some reason sent his heart racing and made it hard to breathe. A strange, pervasive weirdness crawled up his back until he underwater-speed moved to pointedly Not Look at his reflection.

Kenma's text, though it was just words, somehow rang through his mind in Kenma's tired, slow voice, which managed to soothe Akaashi's nerves every time.

_It's called dissociation. You'll be ok._

Akaashi nodded jerkily, not like anyone could see with Bokuto outside, bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for the gas to finish pumping, and Kenma hundreds of miles away.

Akaashi sat back up, hands turning over his phone unconsciously, his pillow in his lap because he hated the way it felt when he touched himself - any part of his body - when he felt like this.

Without realizing it, Akaashi found himself in a cheap fast food lobby, looking at a menu he couldn't see. Fumbling with the glasses in his pocket - when did he take those off? - he pushed them on, ignoring the way the plastic hit his nose. Bokuto was still bouncing beside him, and Akaashi reached out, kind of. In some weird way, he reached out and rested his hand on Bokuto's shoulder.

**Stop**.

Bokuto understood the wordless command and stilled, spreading his feet shoulder width apart, clasping his hands in front of himself. He looked like a cop. Akaashi wanted to laugh, but another wave of panic hit under the too thick feeling over his body, and he was suddenly having trouble breathing.

He stared at the menu, forcing himself to ignore the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. And as bad as it was to have a completely random outburst and feel like he was having a heart attack, it was still contained, and it would be ten times worse if he had to walk out to gasp for air in the car and simultaneously hope no one could see him.

He really needed to be less paranoid.

Nobody cared. No one was looking at him. He was okay.

Another wave of panic hit, and he trained his eyes on the choice of burgers. They all looked pretty good. He was hungry. Or, at least, he thought he was. He didn't feel hungry right now, but he rationalized that he still was, regardless of Right Now Feelings.

He snapped his head down as he heard the tail end of the cashier's question. Oh, fuck. He hadn't been listening. The anxiety of being put on the spot was easier to handle, though. He was used to it, but his reflexes were still so slow from whatever happened earlier. From his side, Bokuto smiled at the young woman easily, clearing his throat before stepping up to the counter.

"I think he's still deciding," he winked. "Is it okay if I go ahead and order?"

She was momentarily blinded by Bokuto's charm, and Akaashi was allowed a few more seconds of blessed nonexistence before he once again had to calm himself.

"May I have a number one, add cheese, no onions, please?" he blurted out when Bokuto finally smiled back at him expectantly. He thought he'd seemed stiff, but she appeared otherwise unaffected by his awkwardness, whether it was real or simply imagined. She was probably still taken enough with Bokuto to forgive his socially incompetent friend.

Fine. That was good. He didn't care if Bokuto had the spotlight. He preferred it, really. Made things easier.

She handed him a number, and he felt another weird pull as he realized he wasn't sure what to do. Some people were milling around, but Bokuto was walking away, easy and confident, totally relaxed in his skin, towards a table in the back corner, right where Akaashi liked to sit when he was upset. He could see all the people in the room that way.

Even though he was looking at Bokuto, he still ran into him when he stopped in front of the drink machine. He cursed inwardly and gave a halfhearted apology that he hoped came out smoothly. Bokuto seemed satisfied, laughing. He leaned forward like he was going to kiss him, but Akaashi went rigid, remembering they were in public. For a moment, the shine in Bokuto's eyes went away, and Akaashi instantly regretted it. He hated everyone that couldn't just leave them be and let them kiss like grown men in love. 

Whatever.

The shine was replaced with a smug twinkle. Bokuto coped with their lack of PDA by boasting that it made things more private and special between them. Only _he_ had kissed Akaashi. Only a _few people_ got to see it.

Akaashi didn't really give a fuck about it, but it made Bokuto happy, and they avoided most uneasy encounters, so it was nice.

Bokuto wasn't talking, just moving around like he had done this a million times. He probably had. How many times had they been out to eat like this? Late at night after practice? College during exams?

Bokuto gently pried the cup from Akaashi's hand that he did not remember picking up or being handed, and moved along once Bokuto picked whatever Akaashi would drink, trailing behind him like a shadow.

That's what he told himself, but there was another part of Akaashi that told him, "No. You look fine. This is natural. It's okay."

That voice was an odd combination of Kenma and Akaashi and Bokuto, and it was comforting.

He remembered Kuroo's smile, too. That was nice. Always reminded him of laying out on Bokuto's walkway in front of his house with Kuroo smiling at him, freckles and black hair and big teeth while Kenma played with chalk, Bokuto following close behind to see the designs.

Those were good times.

Some time later, he was feeling more real. More there. And the food came. Bokuto said, "Thanks for the food," and Akaashi went ahead and slowly unpackaged his two burgers. He was glad he got two - high five to past Akaashi - even if he didn't remember ordering them. They were good.

He didn't talk much, but it was okay because Bokuto did, and it's always nice when Bokuto talks because he doesn't need any prompting to carry on.

When they got back in the car, Bokuto stretched and groaned, rolling his head.

"Whew, that was good!" he chirped! Akaashi could feel his nervous look in his direction, and he didn't react, choosing to stare to the right at some abandoned lot because the left was a weird feeling and a memory he didn't like.

"Akaashi," Bokuto murmured, not moving. Neither of them moved. Akaashi couldn't remember what the place looked like, and he, morbidly, wanted to look again.

"Keiji," Bokuto said his name like it was holy. "I love you."

That felt good. Right. Very nice.

"I love you, too, Bokuto-san," Akaashi replied kindly, a little too tired to pour much of his affection into that admission. 

"I know," Bokuto said matter-of-factly, and Akaashi could imagine him sitting there, fists resting on his knees, smiling at nothing in particular aside from Akaashi.

"That's good," Akaashi tried, unsure of what else to say. The silence was a little uncomfortable because Akaashi knew Bokuto wanted to ask what had happened.

"I think I recognized that place," Akaashi offered, not noticing but noticing how dead his voice sounded. It felt out of place. Like he wasn't talking but also like he was hollow, just sort of speaking to speak.

He could hear Bokuto shift, craning to look past him at the lot by the restaurant's dumpster.

"Not there, Bokuto-san. That plum place over there. Across the street."

Bokuto shifted again, and hummed when he saw it.

"That's not a nice looking place, Akaashi," he said almost to himself.

"I know," Akaashi admitted. "I told you I don't... I don't really remember a lot of my life before I met you."

Bokuto nodded wordlessly. He could hear him move.

"Yeah, I remember you saying that. Forgot you lived here before. Not a good memory?" he asked. They still weren't looking at each other. This conversation was odd in that it was so detached, impersonal. Neither of them putting much feeling into their words. Like a really bad text-to-speech simulator, except it hurt to hear.

"I'm not sure," Akaashi began, playing with the first joint on his pointer finger. "It was when I heard about it and remembered it, but seeing it. Seeing it made me feel weird. Kenma."

Bokuto waited for Akaashi to continue.

"Kenma...?" he prompted.

"Oh. Yeah. Kenma said it was dissociating. Or something."

"That again," Bokuto said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, leaning his arm against the plastic interior under the car window. 

"You're real, Akaashi."

"What?" Akaashi laughed, feeling a nervous bubble in his stomach.

"I don't know. You're just. You're here, okay? It's alright." And Bokuto fixed him with the full force of his eyes, and strangely, Akaashi felt weighted back down. Very real and there.

Much better.

**Author's Note:**

> You can always talk to me about anything on twitter: [kettlewhistlss](http://twitter.com/kettlewhistlss) or tumblr: [abbybabbles](http://abbybabbles.tumblr.com/)


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